The Black Madonna

By Traci Harding

The bestselling author of The Ancient Future returns with the final instalment of this compelling series about an ancient and powerful female lineage ...
Mia Montrose, archaeological linguist, has discovered that the Black Madonna is a code used by secret societies throughout time for the lost key to an ancient power source: the Sphere of Amenti.Kali, inter-dimensional Queen of the Anunnaki - now fully merged with the youngest Dragon Queen, tamar Devere - has less than a year to rehabilitate her Fallen kindred who desire inter-galactic domination. Ashlee Granville-Devere, and the Dragon Queens must pool their talents to open the twelve Stations of the Signet Grid and unlock the Halls of Amenti lest the Fallen succeed in using time-travel technologies to destroy humanity.From the ancient past to the distant future, from Montsègur to the way-stations of the universe, from the Underworld of the Kali Rift to the Otherworld of the Ranna time Flow - the inter-time war must be won for the sake of the future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Oct 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9780730443292

Traci Harding

Traci Harding is one of Australia's best loved and most prolific authors. Her stories blend fantasy, fact, esoteric belief, time travel and quantum physics, into adventurous romps through history, alternative dimensions, universes and states of consciousness. She has published more than 20 bestselling books and been translated into several languages. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

TRIOGENES—MONTSÉGUR

In cycles the legends come forth,

each with its own cast of characters,

incorporated into a work without beginning or end,

but forever perpetuating new stories.

In myth, they are the keys to the creation process,

to the great mysteries of creation and humanity.

Imagination flows from the Triogenes,

not bound by space or time,

to be entered as desired

by any soul mind with the patience to listen

to the flow of creation.

For in truth,

all is myth,

myth is all.

I was lost in contemplation out the window of the private aircraft that was carrying me towards my Signet station at Montségur.

It felt rather surreal to be embarking on my first official mission as an Amenti staff member, along with my husband, Albray—Amenti code name Arcturus—and our thirteen-year-old daughter, Tamar. Our task was to secure and open my Signet station, for an archaeological excavation had broken through to its outer labyrinth and, although there was no chance of anyone finding the station hidden within, we did not wish to attract any attention to the area. It was our job to keep any discoveries made beneath Montségur under wraps.

As fate would have it, the head excavator at Montségur, André Pierre, was an old friend and admirer of my translation skills of ancient languages. So when the project leaders broke through to the labyrinth and discovered ancient text therein, their first call was to me, to assist with translation. The excavation project had found symbols associated with the Knights Templar, side by side with well-known emblems of the Cathars—much like those found nearby in the grottoes of Sabarthez. Hence my husband had also been invited to join the excavation project due to his expertise on the period that had seen the demise of the Cathars. Of course, the fact that Albray had actually been there to witness the burning fields of Montségur in the thirteenth century had a bit to do with his knowledge.

Dangerous circumstances lay ahead of us, hardly the kind of situation that most parents would choose to lead their teenage daughter into—but then Tamar was no ordinary teenager.

On Tamar’s thirteenth birthday, her biological clock triggered the integration of her consciousness with the advanced extraterrestrial soul mind of the Anunnaki Queen Kali, who had been lying dormant in our daughter’s non-coding DNA since her conception. In less than a week Tamar developed into a mature woman, more beautiful, more intelligent and infinitely more powerful than any other being on Earth.

This would have been truly horrifying for me to witness had a prophetess not given me prior warning of the event, and still I was finding the adjustment far more difficult than my daughter was. The part of me that was Mia Devere, Tamar’s human biological mother, was compelled to question, challenge and teach her. The part of me that was my higher self, Meridan, mistrusted the Anunnaki race, of which Kali was queen, for their offences against humanity both in this universal dimension and the next.

Few traces of my little girl were still apparent in the woman I now saw when I looked at Tamar. Her long, straight, near-black hair she had inherited from her father, but her once brown eyes had now turned a deep shade of violet and her skin was darker, more akin to the Anunnaki. Her tall, slender form made her appear a little fragile, and her outer beauty stopped traffic, yet she had the psychic power and physical capability to destroy the most hardened and skilled warriors.

Our fellow staff members suspected that the Montségur project was being secretly backed by our foe, the Nefilim, or their Illuminati operatives, and Tamar’s purpose on this mission was to sniff out any Nefilim involvement. Albray and I had been given very strict instructions to give her a free rein; despite any parental instinct we might feel, we were not to question her methods.

I was a little perturbed about the black mini-dress and high heels Tamar had decided to wear today—André Pierre was a renowned womaniser, and the outfit made her look as if she’d just stepped off a catwalk in Milan. When I mentioned this, Tamar only grinned.

‘All the easier for me to siphon information from him. The majority of human males are easily manipulated by their desires, and this is doubly true of Nefilim males,’ she said.

‘Am I supposed to find that reassuring?’ Albray lowered his paper to have a quiet word. ‘This body is my daughter’s temple, so do try to be a little selective about who worships it. Please, Kali,’ he added, realising that she was no longer bound to listen to him or follow his advice.

‘As there is only one being in this entire evolutionary scheme that I hold the slightest desire for, you need have no fear on that count,’ Tamar assured him. ‘You must trust that I know what I’m doing. No one knows the Nefilim like I do.’

I sensed my husband felt a little silly at having pulled her up.

‘In that case…go get ‘em, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need a hand at any time.’

‘I will,’ she promised, with a huge adoring smile, and Albray returned to his reading and I turned my gaze back out the window to the runway below.

André Pierre met us at Toulouse airport in the project chopper. He was the best excavation manager in the business—if he couldn’t unearth an archaeological find intact, then no one could.

My French friend removed his sunglasses when he saw my daughter coming. ‘Who is this beauty?’ he said with a smile, then recognised Tamar and burst out laughing. ‘Tamar! Could it have been so long? I thought you were still a…’ he searched for the word, ‘adolescent. You look fantastique!’

He kissed both her cheeks and held her closer than usual.

‘Just celebrated her thirteenth birthday a couple of weeks ago,’ my husband informed him, and the embrace abruptly ended.

‘How cruel life is.’ André turned down the charm a little, but desire was in his eyes. He greeted Albray briefly before turning his attention my way.

‘Mia, my goddess, you look beyond fantastique.’ He held both my shoulders, kissed each of my cheeks in turn and then held me at arm’s length to admire my form. ‘I swear you look younger every time I see you.’

I was perpetually thirty since I had walked the Halls of Amenti thirteen years ago; thus I appeared barely older than my rapidly maturing daughter.

‘And you are more in need of a wife every time I see you, mon ami.’ I held André’s face between my hands and shook it. ‘You look a mess.’

I was referring to his unshaven, unkempt appearance. Tamar and Albray had a quiet chuckle at how quickly I’d brought André’s amorous advances under control.

‘I’ve been down a hole for weeks,’ he said defensively, backing away. He ran one hand over his unpressed clothes, and with the other combed his shoulder-length, unwashed, mousy-brown hair behind his ears.

‘You’re not eating properly either.’ My mothering tone served to remind the Frenchman that I was married with a child, whilst assuring him that I did still care about his welfare.

‘I’ve been busy.’ He smiled. ‘You know how it is. I get distracted.’

‘It must be exciting for you to be working in France for a change.’ I began fishing for information as we waited for our baggage to be loaded on board the chopper by the ground crew. ‘Is the project funded by the French as well?’

‘This project was the brainchild of a man by the name of Labontè,’ André said. ‘You may have heard of—’

‘The mining and media magnate Morell Labontè?’ I queried. I’d never heard anything about the wealthy tycoon’s interest in archaeology; goldmining was what he was known for.

‘No,’ André corrected, ‘his son, Killian—’

‘The thrill-seeking, socialite playboy?’ Tamar butted in, having read about Killian Labontè’s exploits in teen mags.

‘En effet,’ André confirmed. ‘He has a very keen interest in the occult and in the Holy Grail in particular.’

‘He’s following Otto Rahn’s theory that the Grail was hidden beneath Montségur by the Cathars,’ I guessed, and glanced at Albray. He looked amused, for he had been the knight who had helped in sneaking Montségur’s sacred treasures from the mount.

‘The Grail itself may not be hidden beneath the mount of Montségur,’ André said, ‘but it is certainly an area where the Grail legends converge and our employer is paying us to discover why.’

‘Hey, if there’s a good pay cheque in it…’ My husband shrugged, playing up his scepticism.

‘Labontè’s hunches have proven excellent so far,’ André said, suggesting we not pass judgement until we had seen the find for ourselves.

The excavation site was rather larger than I had expected. Labontè’s team had unearthed the remains of a thirteenth-century village at the base of the mountain and re-opened a secret cave, the entrance to which had collapsed centuries ago.

‘The cave contains a passage leading up inside the mountain. We suspect it was used by the Cathars to get supplies into their besieged fortress and their treasures out,’ André told us as we flew around the mount, past the tunnel excavation and towards the remains of the medieval village, alongside which the site house and helipad were located.

‘I suspect you may be right,’ Albray agreed, with a knowing grin in my direction.

‘Is that the hole you’ve been working in?’ Tamar referred to the newly exposed cave.

‘Ah, no…’ André was amused. ‘We have discovered a much larger cavity to get lost in.’

The helipad was on high ground and gave an excellent view of the camp site and dig beyond.

‘In the village we discovered an ancient labyrinth of tunnels, accessed via the basement of one of the previously buried structures,’ André informed us as we descended the stairs towards the camp. ‘We’ll just drop off your bags and I’ll take you straight down.’

The site comprised several large structures that accommodated a canteen, preservation rooms, a large office and an amenities block. There were smaller individual units that served as sleeping quarters. Tamar had been given her own living module next to ours.

‘Are you coming, Tamar?’ I asked as André set off towards the excavation.

‘You go ahead.’ She waved me on. ‘I’m going to check out the camp facilities…maybe find some lunch?’

I knew the last thing on her mind was food.

‘Be good,’ I cautioned, then my husband and I followed André towards the dig that led to the unearthed labyrinth.

CHAPTER 2

KALI’S MISSION

TAMAR DEVERE—KALI

I did look a little out of place wandering through the camp dressed as I was, but apart from a few friendly hellos from passing males and some repressed smiles of envious approval from females, no one was confident enough to try and engage my attention for long. The kind of souls I was seeking would always be attracted to a thing of beauty and would never doubt their ability to acquire it for themselves.

‘Are you lost?’

The accent was American. The query came from the site office and I turned to find a young fellow standing at the door. He struck me as the studious, intellectual type, no doubt due to the heavy dark-rimmed glasses he wore.

‘Never,’ I replied, heading over to introduce myself.

My psychic impression was of a good and helpful soul. His straight dark-blond hair was neatly trimmed and he was shorter than your average human male, but perhaps he would grow taller as he was still young. His youth was emphasised by his college-style shirt, trousers and sweater-vest.

‘Do you need a jacket or something, Miss—’

‘Tamar Devere.’ I held out my slender, perfectly manicured hand.

He shook it very briefly, a little flustered by my attention. ‘You’re Mia Devere’s little girl?’ He was stunned, as he’d obviously been told how old I was.

‘We mature fast in my family.’

I eased past him to enter the office, finding it all but deserted. ‘And you are?’

‘Emmett, Dr Rich’s son,’ he said. I was none the wiser so he explained further. ‘Dr Colin Rich, the anthropologist who’s project manager here.’

‘Ah. Do you work for your father?’

‘I work with him sometimes, yeah.’ Emmett returned to his desk. ‘I’m still a student, but I run the site office while Dad is down the hole.’

He took a seat, and became immediately engrossed in what he was reading on his computer. Either he was overwhelmed by my beauty and very shy, or he did not find me the slightest bit attractive.

‘Are you gay?’

Emmett nearly choked on the drink he was slurping through a straw. ‘What? No…no.’

‘How old are you?’ My guess was around sixteen.

‘Do you always ask such personal questions of perfect strangers?’ he said indignantly.

‘I was just wondering why you don’t find me attractive.’

He looked back to his computer, which annoyed me. ‘Legally, I’m not permitted to find you attractive for at least another three years.’

Since my merger with Kali, I was used to bowling people over, inspiring awe and desire. What could he be reading that was so all-absorbing? I strolled behind him to find out.

It was an article titled ‘The Circles of Power Behind UFO Secrecy’, written by the founder of CSETI—the Center for the Study of Extraterrestrial Intelligence.

‘So you’re a believer?’ I said.

He jumped, clearly oblivious to the fact that I had moved. ‘Absolutely,’ he said, his eyes still pinned to the screen. ‘I’m a regular A to Z directory on anything remotely relating to a cover-up.’

‘Have you been abducted?’ I asked directly.

‘Not that I recall. I’m just a good researcher.’ His tone implied I was being predictable. ‘You’re a sceptic, I take it?’

‘Not at all. I know quite a bit about the Old World Order…or the New World Order as it’s now known.’ I’d finally secured his attention. ‘Why so surprised?’

‘Why am I surprised that a girl like you would spare a thought for conspiracy theories?’ Emmett thought the answer was obvious. ‘Hell, I’m surprised you even read!’

I took offence. ‘Excuse me! I’ve just co-authored a book, so I write as well.’

‘Good for you.’ He seemed more interested in his article. ‘What’s your book about?’

‘The Grail bloodline,’ I said, and his attention shot back to me. ‘It’s just a fantasy story.’

Disappointed, he went back to his screen. ‘Then you should have a lot in common with our sponsor, Mr La-bent…most of the time,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Otherwise known as I have the money and can afford to have an eccentric interest in digging up half the country while chasing an ancient myth.’

Emmett’s resentful humour amused me. ‘You mean the myth that the Grail is buried beneath this mountain?’

He arrowed down the page on his screen. ‘My personal opinion is that the Grail hunt is just a smokescreen for what La-bent is truly seeking down there.’

How interesting, I thought. ‘And what might that be?’

He shook his head and chuckled quietly. ‘I’m not going to tell you, in case what I heard is a fabrication and I look a fool for repeating it. But fear not, I’m sure he’ll confide in you presently.’ ‘Really. Why?’

He laughed again. ‘He is going to love you. Legal constraints have never been a major concern of the rich and shameless.’

A tall fellow came into the site office, his dark hair flowing in the breeze. He strode towards one of the private offices, engrossed in a conversation he was having on his remote headset.

‘Speak of the devil,’ said Emmett without looking up.

Killian Labontè was wearing a filthy pair of shredded jeans and a T-shirt so soiled its true colour was no longer determinable; it was difficult to recognise him from the celebrity pictures I’d seen of him. He sounded American rather than French, but I’d read that he’d spent most of his youth in the US and had been educated there.

‘It speaks of the location of the lance,’ he said, then frowned as he entered the largest of the offices. ‘Of course I’m fucking sure!’ The door slammed closed.

‘Lovely,’ I commented, referring to Killian’s phone manner rather than his person. I looked at Emmett. ‘What lance does he mean?’

‘The all-powerful lance, staff, rod, sword that appears over and over again in Arthurian legends, and is supposedly the weapon that pierced the side of Christ at the crucifixion, yadda, yadda, blah, blah.’ Emmett sounded terribly bored as he rattled off the theory.

‘You think otherwise?’

‘The lance, or rather, the rod of ancient myth, didn’t make its first appearance at the crucifixion of Christ. Moses, the Levites and Solomon all had possession of the Rod and Ring of Power. It took an adept soul to wield either treasure, and they were creative tools more than implements of destruction. I believe that together the ring and rod might have formed a key.’

I smiled. Emmett was right on the money. ‘A key to what?’

‘No one knows.’

I knew. The rod and ring in question, when united by the Black Madonna, formed the key that would allow me and my missing prince to open the Halls of Amenti.

‘Then what leads you to believe they form a key?’ I asked.

He shrugged and shied away from answering. ‘Whether they do or not, I’d still query how a mere Roman foot soldier came to possess one of the most powerful weapons on Earth, only to inflict harm upon one of Earth’s most adept souls with it.’

I mulled over his theory. ‘Perhaps the foot soldier was in league with Christ, and used the weapon to secretly heal and not harm him?’

Emmett was amused by the premise. ‘I can see why you write fiction.’ He returned to his computer.

‘Fact can be stranger than fiction,’ I teased, ignoring his insult.

Killian Labontè opened his office door and, ripping the phone set from his head, threw it onto his desk. ‘Imbecile.’ Then he spied me standing by Emmett’s desk and his temper immediately dispersed.

‘Killian Labontè.’ He held his hand out and walked over to introduce himself.

This was exactly the kind of confidence I would expect from one of the Nefilim, yet oddly enough his light-body appeared perfectly normal. There were a few muddy patches in his aura and light centres, but he had no major hang-ups and was very self-confident for a human of his age—not really surprising considering his cushy upbringing. Killian Labontè came off as a kind of happy-go-lucky rebel in the tabloids; they couldn’t get enough of him. His intense blue eyes, handsome features and good physique did make him rather easy on the eye.

‘Tamar Devere.’ I held out my hand and Killian held it fast in his as he became fixated by my eyes.

‘I’ve never seen violet eyes before…’ His attention shifted downward. ‘Or legs that long.’

It was clear that Killian, like me, was used to inspiring awe in the opposite sex. Such an admiring gaze from the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune might have made some women feel uncomfortable and nervous, but I was confident.

‘And all in one neat package,’ I said flirtatiously.

‘Indeed.’ Killian raised my hand, intending to kiss it, but was interrupted by Emmett crushing his drink can and tossing it into the empty metal bin. Labontè closed his eyes briefly to suppress his annoyance, as Emmett got up and headed for the kitchenette, then resumed his friendly demeanour. ‘I was just on my way to get changed for a function. A friend of mine is opening a nightclub. Would you care to accompany me?’

‘Do you think I’ll pass for eighteen?’ I said. I had to let him know I was a minor.

‘As long as you’re with me, no one will ask any questions,’ he said arrogantly. ‘Unless, of course, you think your parents might object?’

‘Not at all.’ I smiled. ‘They encourage me to get out and meet others.’

‘It’s a date then.’ He slapped his hands together, pleased, then checked his watch. ‘Meet you back here in half an hour?’

I nodded. ‘That’ll give me time to change into something more inappropriate.’

Labontè looked discomfited for a second, then smiled. ‘I like you already.’ And with a wave he was gone.

‘Guess I’ll be reading about you in the social pages tomorrow,’ said Emmett when he returned from the kitchenette and saw me leaving.

I sensed a warning beneath the comment, which was rather sweet. ‘Why read the news when you can be the news,’ I replied flippantly.

Emmett shook his head, clearly taking me for a social climber, and I decided it was safer to perpetuate that illusion. As I headed back to my sleeping quarters to raid my luggage for a change of attire, I decided I rather liked Emmett Rich.

‘Are you insane?’ My mother was displeased by my decision to date her employer. ‘Your father and I have gone to great lengths to keep you hidden from undesirables, and you decide to date the guy who’s been hailed as the world’s most eligible bachelor for three years running! The press go ballistic every time he glances sideways at a woman. You’ll be world news by tomorrow morning!’

‘Exactly,’ I said, zipping up my pleated, checked mini-skirt. I reached for my little white shirt, pulled it on and tied it up around my midriff. ‘I don’t have time to chase up all the Nefilim. We need them to come to me. And they can only do that if they know where I am—not to mention Mathu.’

‘Everyone will know where you are, that’s the point!’ Mother frowned as she watched me pull my long white socks up over my knees. ‘You can’t go out dressed like that. You look like a schoolgirl.’ Nevertheless, she couldn’t help grinning at my blatant cheek.

‘I am a schoolgirl.’ I was quite prepared to promote that little fantasy among my prospective enemies and admirers. I pulled on my chunky black platform shoes, and my slim-fit black mohair cardigan. ‘The good news is that Killian isn’t one of my fallen kin.’

‘Yes, I realise that,’ Mother said. ‘So it would be best if we didn’t attract any of the Nefilim to this particular area of the world right now.’

A vehicle pulling into the site camp drew our attention to the window—it was a long gold limousine. A handsome young chauffeur opened the rear door and Morell Labontè and his wife, Sabine, stepped into view. They each had an aura of sparkling gold and a light-body devoid of light centres. Physically, their true stature could be seen looming over the smaller human bodies they sported; they were Nefilim masquerading as humans.

‘Too late.’ I returned to view myself in the mirror. ‘Should I put my hair in pigtails, do you think?’ I grabbed my long, silky dark hair and pulled it into high bunches on either side of my head, then turned to my mother for an opinion.

She was horrified. ‘Please don’t do this.’

‘I told you not to come here!’ It was Killian, yelling abuse at his parents, which sent Mother and me racing back to the window. ‘This business venture has nothing to do with you!’

‘You can only call an enterprise a business venture if you expect it to make money,’ Morell scoffed. ‘If you simply want to drill holes in the ground, I’ll give you an oil well.’

‘This has nothing to do with the money,’ Sabine cut in. ‘You’ll get yourself killed crawling around underground. Please forget this foolishness and come home.’ She moved to hug her son, but he backed away.

‘We wouldn’t want to damage this perfect specimen you’ve grown,’ Killian said harshly. ‘You’re not my parents.’

‘Your blood is thicker than that skull of yours, boy,’ Morell hissed before returning to the car. ‘You will assume your rightful place in society one way or another.’

‘Leave! Or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.’ Killian stormed off, leaving his parents loitering or lingering around their luxury car.

‘Curious,’ I commented. ‘If the Nefilim know, or even suspect, there’s a Signet station buried beneath Montségur, then why would they want Killian to stop working here? Even if he’s not an ally, he’s still doing their dirty work for them. So either the Nefilim don’t know about the Signet station or, for reasons unknown, they don’t want Killian to find it.’

‘Do you think Killian’s adopted?’ My mother was wondering how Killian’s parents could be Nefilim when he clearly wasn’t.

‘The Nefilim ceased to wear their true physical forms aeons ago, as they grew too hideous from their addictions,’ I explained. ‘Instead, they murder and then assume the forms of human beings who have fallen by the wayside—those seduced by power, money, and who have a complete disregard for their fellow man. It’s easier for the emotionless Nefilim to assume the lives of such people.’

My mother recalled the practice from her readings of the journals of our foremother, Ashlee Granville-Devere. ‘Those of the blood can be vessels for angels or demons,’ she said.

‘They suck the life from the human vessel they desire, then don its identity like a brand-new suit of clothes. And guess who their next conquest is going to be?’

Mother looked shocked when she realised I was talking about her boss.

‘Although if Killian is indeed of the blood, he could just as easily be a vessel for Mathu as one of the Nefilim,’ I added, and my heart skipped a beat at the possibility. I took a deep breath to dispel the rush of joy and gathered my wits. ‘I should go.’

‘But what shall we do about them?’ My mother pointed out the window at the two impostors posing as Killian’s parents.

‘They must be left at liberty,’ I instructed. ‘They will lead us to others of their kind.’

‘You be careful,’ Mother said awkwardly—out of habit.

I reached into my luggage and pulled out a tiny handgun. ‘You know how cautious I am.’

‘Where did you get that?’ Mia was shocked and then enchanted by the tiny gun with its clear chamber filled with liquid light.

‘It’s something Levi has been developing,’ I replied.

Levi was the Council of Amenti’s key technologist, along with his partner, Thana.

‘Is it safe?’ Mother asked, concerned about me wielding experimental weaponry.

‘It’s completely harmless…to the uncorrupt.’

I tucked the tiny weapon into the top of my skirt at the back, where it was covered by my cardigan. Mia looked as if she was in pain.

‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘Focus on your mission.’ I kissed her forehead and left.

Outside I ran into my father, and kissed him on the cheek too. ‘Later, Dad,’ I said, and strode off before he started a re-run of my mother’s protests.

‘You’re not letting her go out looking like that?’ I heard him protest to my mother.

I didn’t look back, just walked on to my date with notoriety.

CHAPTER 3

SOUL TRADE

As I passed the gold limousine, I saw that Morell Labontè had retired to the back seat and was absorbed in a video conference call. There was no sign of Sabine. I continued to the site office, where I’d arranged to meet my date, but it appeared empty. I sensed, however, that I wasn’t alone and so moved stealthily across the communal workspace towards the private offices on the other side of the room. The sound of whispering drew my attention to the kitchenette at the back of the common room. I turned away from the private offices and crept towards my target, but as I passed the doorway to Killian’s office I was grabbed around the waist and mouth and pulled inside. I broke free and turned to defend myself—my open-handed strike stopping only centimetres from Emmett Rich’s Adam’s apple.

He swallowed, bewildered by my strength and speed, then raised a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence. He pointed to the wall in Killian’s office that backed onto the kitchenette. There was a rather large hole in it, and I moved at once to investigate.

Sabine Labontè was in the kitchenette, speaking very intimately with André.

‘Are you sure it’s authentic?’ she asked.

‘I retrieved it from the chasm myself,’ he replied. ‘Did you bring what I require in exchange?’

She pulled from between her breasts a vial filled with sparkling particles and I stifled a gasp.

‘What is it?’ Emmett whispered, put out by my taking over his investigation.

I shook my head and refused to give up my vantage point.

‘Molier is gone, but your addiction can live on…for quite some time,’ Sabine teased the Frenchman.

Christian Molier had been André’s employer on the Sinai excavation at Mount Serabit, where my parents had first got together. Molier was an abomination of nature due to his addiction to Star-Fire—the potions of the gods that gave its users immortality. Star-Fire had already damned the souls of all the Nefilim and it transformed Molier and his followers into creatures of the night, not unlike the vampires of myth.

André grabbed for the vial but Sabine kept it from him.

‘The stone,’ she said, and held out her hand.

André placed a velvet case in her palm. She opened the case to check the item. I couldn’t see the contents, but she smiled and handed André the vial of Star-Fire. André looked relieved to have the vial in his possession, so much so that he didn’t seem to mind that Sabine Labontè’s seductive manner ceased as soon as she had what she desired.

‘Have a lovely, long, young life,’ she said with a smile, knowing that André’s addiction to youth and all things material would damn his soul for all time. The more humans with Star-Fire addiction the better as far as the Nefilim were concerned.

I looked at Emmett as Sabine left the kitchenette and held a finger to my lips. We were both silent until she had departed the site office; then I went to speak with André, despite Emmett’s whispered protest. I had no time to waste on being discreet.

‘Bonsoir,’ I said, startling André, who instantly shoved the vial he was admiring into his pocket.

‘Tamar? Wow!’ His lustful eyes scanned my outfit. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

I walked straight up to him and gripped his head between my hands. ‘What did you give her?’ I stared into his eyes ablaze with desire which spiralled into fear as he was overpowered by me.

‘Who?’ he said, denying all knowledge of what I was talking about, but I could see into his thoughts and they showed me my father’s ringstone.

Although I called the ringstone my father’s, it never actually belonged to him. It was a stone that took the form of a ring due to the hole at its centre, and such a stone was essential for the casting of an ancient Wiccan spell. During the incantation Ashlee Granville-Devere had called upon the spirit of my father, who agreed to attach his soul mind to the stone so that he might counsel and aid Ashlee during the course of her investigations in the Near East. Many centuries later my mother found the ringstone, and it was through this old family heirloom that she first met my father and helped free him from his curse. The ringstone had been stolen by Molier and cast off a very high cliff in the Sinai, around the time I’d been conceived. Whether my father’s soul mind was still in any way connected to the ringstone was a mystery, and one I didn’t want unravelled by the Nefilim.

‘That was my mother’s!’ I said, and slapped André’s face for the betrayal. He seemed to enjoy it for he smiled. I grabbed the vial from inside his pocket and, as he desperately tried to retrieve it, I knocked him to the ground.

‘You idiot!’ I said, checking the substance to confirm my earlier assumption. It was Orme all right. ‘Time to rejoin the human race, mon ami.’

I pulled out my weapon and fired at him. I heard Emmett cry out in the next room as a liquid-light bullet embedded itself in André’s body.

‘Holy shit, Tamar!’ Emmett rushed into the kitchen to find André having a fit on the floor. ‘What the hell did you shoot him with?’

‘Pure love,’ I replied, concealing my weapon again, then racing past Emmett to the door. I hoped to prevent Sabine Labontè leaving with the ringstone. ‘He’s just finding it a little hard to process.’

The limousine was halfway up the valley road by the time I made it outside. I cursed and went back inside to see how André was faring. He was dry-retching and cursing in French, as black muck oozed from his mouth, nose and ears.

Emmett was speechless as he struggled to process what had just happened. He looked at me and backed up a few paces. ‘You’re some kind of alien, aren’t you?’

‘Aren’t all thirteen-year-old girls just like me?’ I batted my eyelashes at him.

‘Of course, I should have known by the stature.’ He observed my height with trepidation and awe. ‘You’re one of the Nefilim.’

‘I am Anunnaki,’ I barked. ‘Big difference.’

The intensity of André’s convulsions increased.

‘We should call an ambulance,’ Emmett said.

‘He’ll be fine.’

I moved to the sink and dampened a tea-towel. André was running out of fight; exhausted from his purge, he stopped struggling and relaxed as I crouched down beside him and wiped all the black muck from his face. He smiled at me. ‘Un ange.’

I nodded and placed the tip of my index finger on his third eye. His eyes closed in rapture and he grinned intently until I withdrew my contact, whereby all expression dropped from his face. When he opened his eyes once more, he was disorientated.

‘What happened?’ He clambered up from the pool of black slime he was lying in, repulsed by the smell.

‘You were sick,’ I told him, and winked at Emmett who was watching the situation with great interest and amazement.

‘Sick!’ echoed André, observing the black bile all over his clothes.

‘What the hell have I been eating?’

‘How do you feel now?’ I asked.

He ceased being revolted long enough to consider this. ‘Why, I feel…fantastique!’ he cried, throwing his arms wide, then wincing. ‘On the inside.’

The Orme he had ingested had extended his youth somewhat, but time had caught up with him now. The spiritual cleansing inflicted upon him by the liquid-light pellet had returned him to his true age and physique. He was clearly surprised by how his limbs ached, for he had no memory of his previous addiction.

‘I should go take a shower,’ he said, moaning as he stretched his sore body. ‘Emmett, could you—’

‘I’ll clean up,’ Emmett cut in, pre-empting André’s request.

André smiled. ‘You’re a good lad,’ he said, and wandered towards the door in a daze. ‘Remind me to give you a raise,’ he added.

‘I will,’ Emmett assured him, suppressing his shock. André was usually a miser with funding.

When we were alone, Emmett looked at me in wonder. ‘That was really amazing.’

I folded my arms and tapped my fingers. ‘What to do about you?’ I thought aloud.

‘Please don’t do the finger thing on me,’ he pleaded, obviously realising I had tampered with André’s memory of events. ‘I can help you.’

‘I don’t need help,’ I said. ‘It’s safer for you if you’re ignorant.’

Emmett didn’t bother trying to escape—he knew resistance was futile. His adoring gaze touched my frosty heart with its sincerity; it wasn’t how I looked that attracted his admiration, but who I was.

‘Well,’ he said as I came closer, resigned to his fate, ‘it was nice meeting you.’ Then he delayed my finger gently. ‘Wait. Who are you really?’

He was going to forget in a moment anyway so I decided to indulge his wish. I whispered my true name in his ear. As he gasped in astonishment, I pressed my finger on his brow and willed him to forget.

Emmett opened his eyes and looked completely bemused. ‘What the…?’ He observed the mess on the floor.

‘Looking at it won’t get it cleaned up,’ I said.

‘Pardon?’ He looked at me, puzzled.

‘You promised André, remember?’ I prompted. ‘He’s going to give you a raise.’

Emmett did have a vague memory of this and nodded. ‘It had better be a big raise,’ he said, considering the task ahead with disdain.

‘Later,’ I said, and headed back through the common room. I wanted to find my parents and tell them about the sale of the ringstone, but as I reached the door, Killian Labontè entered.

‘Wow!’ He looked me up and down and laughed. ‘Are you trying to get me arrested?’

‘From what I’ve read, you don’t need any help with that,’ I said, and moved past him.

‘Very true,’ he conceded. ‘Shall we go?’

‘I just need to see my mother for a second—’

‘Your parents are down the hole,’ he said, sounding a little put out at the delay. ‘Why don’t you call them on the mobile in my car?’

He led me towards a brand-new Porsche Sportec Turbo in gunmetal grey.

I shook my head. ‘It’ll keep.’ I had my own means of getting my message across to my mother that didn’t involve sharing our private affairs on the open airwaves.

The conversation en route to the club in Bordeaux was a little stilted at first. Killian was all riled up about his parents arriving on site unannounced, and was struggling to suppress his anger so as not to bore me with it. He spoke of his wish to be anybody but who he was, and of his utter disdain for his family.

‘Your life appears charmed to me,’ I said, wanting him to reveal what was so